I’ve mentioned the furry contingent of our household in my writing here; their names are Miesha, Sasha, and Chi-Chi, oldest to youngest. Miesha and Sasha have been together forever, and Sasha tolerates Chi-Chi like an annoying kid brother who’s always following him around. Miesha and Chi-Chi don’t really get along.

If they’re all scared, they can all hide in the same cupboard. Miesha, being the biggest and the meanest, sits in front. Sasha, being a giant furry chicken, hides behind as many other cats as possible, leaving Chi-Chi in the middle. Chi-Chi’s healthy weight is probably half Sasha’s,1 so this sort of looks like a montain lion hiding behind a rabbit hiding behind a fuzzy godzilla, but at least Sasha is trying. At any rate, this is the only circumstance where Miesha and Chi-Chi don’t start hissing and growling at each other on sight.

The following occurred on Monday of this week. My apologies to any friends or family who learn of these events from my blog. If you’re new here (and a little slow), L is a pseudonym for my wife; I do not have our cats’ permission to use their real names on my web site.

4:10 pm

Miesha pretty much always has attitude for everyone. She gives L attitude, and they’ve been together for all of Miesha’s life and close to half of L’s. If Miesha doesn’t want to be petted, or if she’s decided she’s done being petted, she’ll warn you and then she’ll bite you. She’s also got some back pain. Most of the time Miesha is a “you can look at me but that’s it” cat.

L notices Miesha is violating most of what I said in the last paragraph, to the point of seeming delirious. She texts me that she’s taking her to the vet because “she’s really weird.” Our friend D helps in this production. If you’ve never taken a cat to the vet, you’ll have to take my word that it’s best done with a friend when one is available.

4:45 pm

D is livid.

L doesn’t remember the conversation at the vet that clearly, and I haven’t talked to D about it yet, but after they all left, she told L that we’re not taking any of our cats back to him.2

5:30 pm

L needs some time alone. D leaves her at home and calls me at work to tell me that Miesha has passed away. She passed quietly enough that L might not have immediately noticed.

6:00 pm

I just get up and leave, basically. I don’t tell anyone that I’m leaving or that one of our cats just died. I’m sure it’s been an hour since D called.

6:30 pm

Miesha and L have been together for 16 years; longer than I’ve known L. Miesha got L through some very hard times. I come home to my wife holding Miesha for the last time.

7:30 pm

It’s eerie how much she looks like she’s just asleep. So much so that neither of us can really think clearly until we wrap her body. We put her in my car for the night. Part of me is thinking “we can’t just leave her out in the cold.”

We had pretty much just finished this when my boss calls and asks me about something I really can’t remember. From my voice, he guesses that I’d been asleep. After answering his question I tell him that “we’ve had a death in the family” and that I wouldn’t be in on Tuesday.

I’m calling this the first time I’ve lost a pet. Technically it isn’t, but I was young enough when my sister’s dog passed that I scarcely remember it. My wife and I spent the night curled up together watching who knows what on TV. We also updated our address books — I had a lot of birthdays missing. There’s a really bizarre Proustian question in there somewhere.

  1. My theory is stunted growth caused by malnutrition before the shelter found him, if you’re curious. [↩]
  2. Don’t ask me for his name; I’m not running the Better Business Bureau here. [↩]

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